I have to say, I am really starting to hate that phrase. My right wrist has been sore for a month now. It's not getting better anytime fast. OK, a little history first: I was mowing the lawn and fell on my wrist and butt. Not my most graceful moments I know. The first thing I did was panic and look around frantically to see if anyone saw me. When I realized no one had seen, I was grateful, but by then my wrist was throbbing. A week later my son attacked me and re-injured my wrist. Yeah me!
After the "attack" I was feeling down and went to Dunkin Donuts and decided to treat myself. This is what they did!!!!
Then, the next week I went to the Dr.s I know it was my neurologist, but I did tell him about how my wrist has been taken so long to heal. This is when I heard the dreaded line: "Well, You are at that age."
How does he know? Who decides what "that age" is? I certainly do not feel like I've reached it----- until I try to bear weight on my wrist---- or get out of bed in the morning. I've even caught myself making noises when standing up from a seated position. Oh goodness--- I have reached that age!
I wake every morning thinking I'm still 16 years old- until I move- then I think "oh crap". But then again I think I'm a size 2 until I see myself in the mirror, or God forbid see my shadow. So maybe there's hope, maybe I'm not "at that age" but merely delusional in my abstract thinking. I'll go with that..............